


there's your coffee cup

by jordantodd



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordantodd/pseuds/jordantodd
Summary: spencer is late, and the coffee pot is to blame.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	there's your coffee cup

**Author's Note:**

> posting this from mobile, apologies for any formatting issues

Spencer was late. He was three minutes and 26 seconds late, in fact, if Derek’s watch was correct. 

Spencer was rarely late. Each morning, he usually arrived ten minutes early, taking the early bus to Quantico and spending his free time sipping away at his ridiculously sized coffee cup and reading something he’d picked up from the library. 

On the days he was late, it was typically attributed to a failure on the bus’ part — traffic, bad weather, the bus breaking down. Even then, it was never by more than a minute.

His tardiness had accumulated a crowd around his desk, directly opposite Derek’s. Emily and JJ hung around, sipping at their coffees and staring intently at the elevator to the BAU’s floor. 

“Do you think he’ll hit five minutes?” Emily’s dark, smooth hair had been neatly curled that morning, and she twisted a piece around her finger as she spoke to JJ. The blonde chuckled, motioning her head towards the elevator. A couple of people milled around, filing paperwork and moving between different offices. Yet, still, Spencer was nowhere to be seen. 

_ When Spencer Reid wakes up in the mornings, he's groggy. Eyes all but glued shut, stumbling into the kitchen blindly in his pyjama pants and fuzzy socks, a t-shirt too if he felt especially chilly. His joints were sometimes stiff and awkward from falling asleep on the couch, and today was no different.  _

_ It hadn't been his fault, of course - you’d insisted that you just had to finish that season of Game Of Thrones, considering ‘there was only one episode left and it wasn’t even that late, Spence’. And, of course, you’d forced him to watch with you. The pair of you had cuddled up in the couch, legs tangled up and your fingers running through his mop of soft, dark hair.  _

“No, he’s probably in the elevator right now.”

“Five bucks?” They shook on it. In his seat, Derek twirled his pen between his fingers. His gaze remained locked on the elevator doors, willing them to open. 

So when they did, and Spencer Reid all but leapt out of them, he felt slightly accomplished. Whistling lowly, he kicked his seat out slightly and spun around, to see him better (and for slight dramatic effect). The young doctor looked particularly dishevelled that morning. 

All though he never exactly dressed stylishly, nor did he have any concept of colour theory, he looked extra disjointed. His mismatched socks were a garish and strange combination of neon cats and vomit-coloured argyle, and his tie didn’t pair well with his sweater. The chocolate mop on his head that one might refer to as ‘hair’ was more of a mess than usual, slightly overgrown and clearly styled at high speed. 

“Ugh,” Throwing her head back, Emily groaned loudly in annoyance. She fumbled for her wallet, pulling out a wrinkled $5 note and shoving it in JJ’s direction, “Here.”

_ When he’d awoken that morning, peeled himself away from you, and stumbled into the kitchen, Spencer had one thing on his mind: coffee. That sweet, hot bean juice. One of the greatest things in life. The rich, earthy aroma flooded the room, air heavy with the bitter scent. _

  
  


Spencer fell into his seat opposite the group, grimacing. He dropped his satchel down beside him. With his other hand, he made a motion to set down his coffee cup as he always did, but was left severely confused when he realised he didn’t have it. 

“So, Pretty Boy, you’re late by...” Derek peered down at his watch, “Four minutes and.. 9 seconds. New record?”

_ He picked up the coffee pot. Glancing over to where you lay on the couch, limbs sprawled out across the cushions and snoring soundly, Spencer couldn’t help but smile. He thought you looked adorable, though slightly ridiculous with your blanket half on the floor.  _

“What was it? Forget to replace your batteries and shut down tying your shoelaces?” Emily teased playfully, leaning forward from her seat atop Derek’s desk. Shaking his head, Spencer rolled his eyes jokingly. The notion that Spencer was a cyborg or android was a running joke by now, a conspiracy that Emily refused to drop. Beside her, JJ hummed in agreement between sips of lukewarm coffee. 

“I always thought he was suspiciously robotic, it does make sense.” The blonde reached to poke at Spencer’s hand, faking a dramatic shudder. She clutched her hand as if it had been burned.

“Ice cold. Definitely solid iron beneath that skin..”

“I don’t even wanna know where he got that skin suit,” 

_ And then the alarm went off.  _

_ Before he could even compute what was happening, the coffee pot slipped from his grip. His entire body flinched from the unanticipated and now relentless noise. The pot collided with the tiles beneath him with a deafening shatter. Pieces of glass exploded across the kitchen, swimming in a pool of boiling hot coffee.  _

_ It was a good thing he’d jumped when he did, leaping back and saving himself from coffee-soaked socks, which would have definitely left some pretty nasty burns. He hadn’t escaped it fully, though, coffee splattering up onto his bare calves and leaving small dots of blistering pain where they’d hit.  _

  
  


“Maybe his bus broke down,” JJ suggested, taking a sip of her coffee and smiling at him, now more preoccupied with the stack of manila files in front of her. She flicked one open, sipping continually, gaze scanning the pages. 

Derek shook his head, deciding to throw in his own guess. Peering closer at the scruffy agent and his still-wrinkled shirt, he decided;

_ From where you lay on the couch, you jolted awake. Half asleep, but now disturbed from your restful slumber, you peered around wildly. Your hair was an unkempt mess, eyebrows knitted together in pure confusion as you tried to piece the scene in front of you together.  _

  
  


“My bet is he got laid.” From her seat beside Emily, JJ choked on her coffee, almost spitting it out across the tabletop. It sent Emily into a fit of giggles, hand thumping on JJ’s back as she regained her composure. 

“How could you possibly guess that?”

“It’s a man’s intuition, Em, you wouldn’t get it.”

Leaning back on Derek’s desk, The dark-haired agent scoffed. She motioned to his hand, where no wedding band sat. 

“Oh, yes, your amazing intuition when it comes to women and dating. Which is why you’re married with six kids,”

“I like to keep my options o-“ Before Derek could finish his sentence, Spencer spoke. His spindly fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose, face scrunched up and looking slightly worn. He still hadn’t managed to get his morning fix of coffee and was suffering for it. 

_ "Shit!" Spencer hissed as he hopped back, grimacing down at the mess. He rubbed at his leg, soothing the pain of the burns. Finally managing to decipher the situation, you bit back a slight laugh. _

“My coffee machine broke.” With a grimace, he turned to gaze longingly at the coffee machine in the breakroom. It was old and didn’t work half the time, and even when it did it made this suspicious whirring sound that Spencer really didn’t like. But coffee was coffee. JJ frowned. 

“The one I got you for Christmas?” The genius hummed in response, rubbing at his temples slightly. He’d decided he’d grab a drink after going to speak to Garcia, who had texted him and insisted he come to see her new character figurines. 

“Bummer.”

_ "You know, I always forget we don't have a car," You mused, watching as Spencer began to wipe up the coffee as best as he can, "For a couple of seconds I worry the alarm's ours." _

  
  


“You and your coffee, 187,” Huffed Derek. He took a long swig of his own coffee and swung in his seat from side to side. “Do you want us to bury you with your Keurig?”

“Please.” Spencer watched as the pen between Derek’s fingers twirled, encouraging the agent to both start working on the mountain of files he had. From her seat on the desk, Emily grinned

“Maybe it’ll raise him from the dead,” She suggested, “Zombie Reid can be our coffee guy.”

  
  



End file.
